Dancing
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: Steve and Natasha go on their first real date - dancing. Only problem? Steve can't dance. Natasha to the rescue. Or not.


Steven Rogers has a vice.

Her name is Natasha Romanoff and as of now, she is his vice because somehow she knows where his weak spots are and she exploits the living hell out of them. Like the fact that if she wears the right thing, he tends to go rather stupid. He's a smart man. Sharper than most, but you know, every man has that one thing that just makes him go brainless for a few seconds - or hours, whatever - and she is most definitely that _thing. _He tries not to depersonalize her in that manner but, oh hell, she's wearing a black dress.

And as of now, he's rather speechless. As in cat-got-his-tongue speechless.

Oh. Wait. No.

No. Those were his teeth. Well, this is turning awkward. Here she is, a beautiful Russian woman, standing in his apartment in a beautiful black dress and all he can do is bite his own tongue. Slightly embarrassing. To be fair, he has never seen a woman who could, ahem, fill out a dress quite as well as she could. The woman has made wearing tight clothes an art form. She is the personification of the beautiful women, he thought only existed on canvas or in the erotic mind of an artist. She is class and grace and elegance. She is a woman and good heavens, she is the most gorgeous creature the good Lord had ever decided to bless the earth with. He'd be thanking God personally for sending her his way. Just as soon as his neurons decide to fire again. Yes, that would be good.

But, oh sweet song of the angels!

That dress is quite possibly the single most distracting thing she has ever chosen to swath her body in. It's a silky number with the barest hints of a gold sheen to it. It conforms to her body in ways that have him wanting to do things. Bad things. Naughty things. Things that would make them both blush in the best of ways. He tries to be a gentleman but her cleavage is there and it's a sweet peaches and cream that just draw his eyes down. He doesn't like to objectify her but this black dress was making it hard not too. The black silk smooths over the curves of her hips and her well shaped derriere in a most delicious way and folds of black swish around her knees, shimmering against her legs. Black and gold heels elevate her to as close to his height as she'll ever be without him picking her up. It's such a simple outfit - black dress, black shoes - but there is something so not simple about her. She looks soft but deadly. It is a strangely endearing and arousing quality.

"Tasha, you look..." It's there that his sentence drops off into utter nonsense that makes her chuckle in amusement. "You broke into my apartment in that dress?"

"There are other ways of breaking in, Captain." She clicks her tongue coolly, her jade green eyes still dancing with amusement. "Like picking a lock."

"I'm...sure there are." His train of thought zips in the direction of the image of her kneeling on the floor, picking the lock on his door in that dress. "So do you always break into houses looking like that or is mine special?"

"I thought we might go out. I told Fury that you might like to maintain some anonymity when going out, so he promised to keep SHIELD off of our scent for tonight." Natasha smiles that secretive smile that usually meant trouble and he thinks he shouldn't trust her but she has never once proven herself to be anything other than worthy of trust. "I know of this great little restaurant on the outskirts of town."

"Is this the part where I go put on a suit and pretend that I planned all of this?" Steve jokes, his sharp blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

"If you like," Natasha shrugs, reaching toward the back of his couch for her wrap. "There's a car waiting for us downstairs. Take however long you need."

He leans down and presses a quick to her glossed lips - damn, red, his favorite color on her - before making his way to his room to get ready. His simple kiss is enough to leave Natasha wondering if she really needed that sweep of blush she had brushed on her cheeks while preparing for her date earlier. She wills her cheeks to cool and reapplies her lip gloss before he comes out of the bedroom. Not that it does any good to calm the blush because it returns as soon as he steps into the living room.

Hot. _Damn. _

He is one sexy superhero. They can say what they like about Tony Stark - and he was gorgeous, she'd give them that - but _this, _this was simply beyond anything Tony could even hope to accomplish. Standing before her is the most beautiful specimen she has ever laid her eyes on. It's not like he's trying either. He looks rather casual in his suit. It's a dark gray suit with a faint black plaid pattern on it. He's buttoning the sleeve of his crisp white shirt around his wrist with a black tie casually slung around his neck and the vest part of the suit open. The jacket is draped over his arm and all in all, the image before her is one she commits to memory.

"Need some help with that tie, Captain?" Natasha keeps her hands twisted in her wrap against her ribs in order to resist touching him - because if she does, this whole night is not going to go the way she originally planned.

"Please?"

She tries to be natural as she drops her wrap and moves to help him. His Adam's apple bobs when her hands come near his neck and she ties a simple windsor knot in the black tie before straightening it. She averts her eyes downward and tugs his vest closed, buttoning with quick and nimble fingers. And yes, he does wonder if she'd be that quick to unbutton it, should certain circumstances allow her to do so. She smiles up at him as she takes the jacket from his arm and helps him into it, tugging it so it's pulled comfortably over his shoulders and the sleeves fall where they should. It seems intimate for her to help him dress like this, like she's his wife but at the same time, it isn't unnatural.

"Shall we?" Natasha clears her throat, hoping like hell he doesn't see the flush that's warming her cheeks.

"Sure." Steve offers her his arm because he is a gentleman and it would be wrong not too.

The elevator ride down to the lobby mostly consist of sly glances and flirty smiles. They aren't sure why they feel like teenagers going on a first date considering this is far from the first time they've spent time together. Given, their whole relationship thus far has been take-out and exhaustion, with the exception of the one night he came home to her cooking, this isn't their first rodeo. It's not awkward in any way, they're comfortable with each other but it's still nerve-wracking. This is their first real date and they both feel a little unsure they do know one thing.

They want this.

xxx

It's amazing and slightly disturbing how easily she charms her way into the restaurant because of connections with the owner - he suspects she either saved his life or made him fear for it. It's a quiet little place with a band that plays mostly old jazz and it brings about memories of the decade that shaped him. They aren't all good memories, mind you, but he remembers some of it with fondness. However, he has Natasha now and he wants to make new memories with her.

"Nice place," Steve notes, guiding her to their table with a hand on the small of her back. "How do you know about it?"

"The owner." Natasha smiles when he pulls out a chair for her. "I saved his life. He thanked me for it."

"I'm sure he did." Steve just chuckles in amazement. "And now you have a permanent reservation?"

"He offered me a spot and gave me the number. Told me to call whenever I wanted to use it." She shrugs, taking a sip from the glass of water that was on the table. "I recommend ordering a beer. The wine here is good but overpriced in my opinion."

"You've been here before." Steve leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"Well Captain," Natasha grins wryly, "I've had a few dates. When I need intel, I bring them here. People are much more trusting in a calm environment."

That doesn't sit well. After the last few weeks, he's having a hard time sharing her with SHIELD, much less with people she needs intel from. He knows that being jealous is ridiculous but he can't help it. To him, she's his Natasha and the thought of her on a date with someone else, even just for information, makes him more than a little petulant. He hides it well, though, and fakes a laugh. For what reason, he doesn't know, although he suspects it's more to hide his own jealousy than at her clear amusement at divulging how she knows the menu so well. The band's upbeat number slides into a softer, more romantic song he doesn't recognize but Natasha seems too because she stands up from her chair and offers him her hand.

"Dance with me?"

"I'm not sure you want to dance with me." Steve shakes his head, looking up at her. "Two left feet."

"I'll help you." Natasha winks at him and despite his own reluctance and his head screaming that it's a bad idea, he gets up and allows her to lead him to the dance floor.

Her arms slip around his shoulders leaving him with no choice but to wrap his arms around her waist. Okay. This, he can do. Not a problem. It's the next part he's not sure about. He's never been particularly talented when it came to moving to a rhythm. She leads him around the dance floor in a slow, easy waltz. Easy may have been stretching the truth a bit. It's a bit more nervous and unsure than it is easy but she doesn't seem to mind.

"How do you not know how to dance?" Natasha whispers in his ear so as not to be heard by the other couples around them. "You were born in the forties."

"No girl really wants to dance with someone who was short enough to stand on their feet." Steve whispers, kissing her head. "I was never asked to dance so I never learned."

"Relax." She murmurs gently, pressing her lips to his neck. "That's the first step."

She can feel the blood thrumming beneath his skin, pulsating against her lips. The fresh but tangy scent of white soap mixing with his warm and spicy cologne draws her closer to him. His arms tighten around her waist and she continues their slow, nervous waltz with a little bit of difficulty. He's always been a bit distracting in a good way but it isn't long before her obvious distrait and his two left feet catch up with them. It happens before either one of them realizes it. He steps forward at the same time she does because they clearly have different ideas of who should go where and his foot ends up on top of hers. A startled yelp escapes her and he quickly moves back, releasing her foot. He holds her hand while she takes a moment to compose herself.

"I'm sorry, Tasha. I'm really not a good dancer." Steve apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck.

She knows why he's rubbing the back of his neck like he is. It's a classic sign of discomfort but he's also embarrassed and afraid of making more of a fool of himself than he has already. She tugs him closer and settles back into her previous position; "Then, I'll just have to be a better teacher."

"So what's the uh...what's the second step?" Steve stutters because she's looking at him with those eyes and he's having another one of those brainless moments.

"The second step is you mirror me." Natasha murmurs, averting her eyes away from those damn blue eyes of his that she swears are some sort of trap. "And don't step on my feet."

"I can't promise that." Steve quips in her ear, laughing softly. "I was that guy at one time. Stand on your feet and not do any of the work."

"It's a good thing being Captain America isn't like dancing then." Natasha retorts quietly. She doesn't want to lose her date to his multitude of female fans.

"If it was, I wouldn't be squeezing myself in that tight suit everytime a new threat appears." Steve grins wryly, absently looking around to make sure no one had heard them. "Black Widow would have to do it. Good thing you look good in a tight suit, Tasha."

"I believe that was a compliment, Captain." Natasha notes coyly.

"Better than my dancing skills." Steve winces, looking down at their feet.

They continue their attempt at dancing. It's nervous and fearful because he doesn't want to hurt her. Damn, is she distracting, though. Her loosely curled red hair frames her face and the fiery locks accentuate the beautiful shimmering jade of her eyes. Not to mention that delicious smell that emanates from her. It's spicy cinnamon, which he finds all too fitting for the Russian spy, and a warmth. It's not a sweet smell but a certain warmth, a muskiness that lingers in the background. It's delicious.

Hell, she's delicious.

And it's just there that he steps on her foot again. It's really not his fault. She's just so bloody distracting. Nevertheless, he steps away from her and allows her a moment to recover, once more. Although he isn't entirely certain that trying to dance again is the best idea. She is far too distracting and it's driving him crazy. It's only when he's certain she's once again balanced, that he slips an arm around her and guides her back to the table.

"I think we better leave dancing to the other couples. I don't want to hurt you." Steve laughs, squeezing her affectionately. "Let's get something to eat."

"Actually," Natasha smiles up at him coyly, turning slightly in order to see him better. "I'm not that hungry."

He knows that look. It's that same look that usually means trouble and lots of it. He usually tries to actively avoid trouble but this is Natasha Romanoff. Unless you wanted her to make you look like a coward, you didn't avoid trouble with her around. You went diving into trouble head first and you enjoyed it. And enjoy it, he thinks he just might. So it's with matching grins that they make their way back to the car. The car ride back to his apartment sizzles with tension and unspoken promises of the fun direction this night is headed in.

And, for the love of all that is good, since when did a seatbelt feel more like a straight jacket?

They never actually make it to his apartment. At least not in any manner that might suggest they were just friends. It's all clumsy, nervous laughter and sloppy kisses but they don't mind. They stumble in the elevator, still attached at the lip and if anyone is watching, their last view is of him pressing her against the back wall. Her lips are soft and velvety and oh-so-familiar against his. He revels in the taste of her and in the feel of her pressed against him. Her body is curvacious and soft under his hands and he can't help but marvel at the way the warm silk of her dress clings to her tender curves. She wants to dominate, regain some semblance of control but like she so often does with him and those damn tight jeans she insisted on wearing, he knows her weakness and he uses it against her.

The elevator ride, while excruciatingly slow, is usually the last thing to test his patience but when he's beyond aroused and the feel of Natasha is driving him crazy, his patience is pushed to its limits. When it finally arrives at his floor and the door opens, they reluctantly part and hurry to his apartment. The door is barely open before they're stumbling in and kicking it closed behind them. They are in too much of rush to worry about the insignificant things like locks, even though this is New York and they probably should. They feel like they've waited far too long for this moment and neither one of them are willing to ruin it.

Oh yes, Steve Rogers most definitely had a vice. He isn't sure what is it though - Natasha or dancing.

He's okay with that.

* * *

**Virtual hugs if you know that Steve's suit is based on one Chris Evans wore to a red carpet premier! More hugs if you think he actually looked pret-ty damn good in it! I was going to complain that it was hard to find a good picture of Chris Evans but I mean, geez, the man is ridiculously photogenic and almost unnaturally beautiful! Although, right now, I kind of have a thing for Jeremy Renner and his pornographic arms and singing voice - if you have not heard him sing, go listen to it, immediately! All of the Avengers are beautiful men in their own way but I got Bourne Legacy on DVD a couple of weeks ago and realized how truly pornographic Jeremy Renner's...entire body is and then I heard him sing and well...damn, here I am!**

**Anyway, yes I know, they might be a little out of character but I honestly felt a little awkward putting them in this position and when I feel awkward...my story tends to pick up that awkard feeling. I do admit, I could not resist sexing them up a little bit toward the end. My last Steve/Natasha story didn't have much in the way of kissing so I figured I owed it to you. Lol! Anyway, this was requested by Muldoon22, who asked me when I was going to write another one and even gave me a prompt for it. So I took that as a hint and wrote this! So anyway, leave me some love, Dolls! **

**Love ya, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove **

**P.S. I always end my stories with 'Leave me some love, Dolls!' and I have no idea where it came from. Anyway, I think I've said this before but if I haven't, I'll say it now. If you message me or I reply to your review and you find that I call you a pet name, please don't think I'm trying to be creepy. I promise I'm not. I tend to be very affectionate when talking to people so pet names just kind of happen. This is something my family knows very well - I call them pet names all the time. I just realized that some people may not very comfortable with me using pet names so I felt the need to tell you this. **


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